


All I Want for Christmas is You.

by dr_woodsprite



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Modern AU, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 06:10:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21266342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_woodsprite/pseuds/dr_woodsprite
Summary: Rhysand and Feyre’s first Christmas.





	All I Want for Christmas is You.

Feyre decided it was time to be proactive.

It was their first Christmas together. She had made a list of things she intended to do to make this a memory they’d cherish forever. She had given him a miniature of their family together. He had loved it so much that it now stood proudly on his desk at work. Knit gloves in the colour of his eyes, socks that did not match, a bottle of vintage wine that she had requested from Mor - the resident booze expert. They had decorated the tree the night before and it now stood in the corner of the family room. 

Today she was supposed to cook. She thought hard before adding this to the list of Christmas traditions. Her cooking skills were abysmal. Baking was an entirely different playing field. Nevertheless, she decided to give it a shot. Because...Christmas.   
Diligently mixing cake batter a third time (the first turned out too soggy and the second? It could crack teeth), she went through the recipe once again.

“Butter? Check. Eggs? Check. Castor sugar? Flour? Check ….”

……………….

After a long day at work, Rhysand was ready to go home. Feyre apparently had a long list of ‘Christmas Traditions’ to be followed. Showering gifts upon him was a part of the plan she chalked out. The thought brought a smile to his face. 

Before Feyre, Christmas was not a huge thing in his family. It reminded him of his ma and Ada- his little sister. Over the years following their death, Holiday season became a chore. Mor, Cas and Azriel always turned up at his door on Christmas Eve and they went out for dinner but nothing more. His family understood his deep rooted sorrow. 

Feyre has been determined to change that. “We vowed to make new memories together,” she had said, the day she gave him the miniature. She was so proud of her work and anxious at the same time. He scoffed. ‘Like there was anything she’d do and I wouldn’t like’. The miniature was one of his favourites.

Walking through the front door, he headed towards Feyre’s studio. He went through the hall, discarding his jacket and bag on the sofa. As soon as he crossed the hall, the unmistakable smell of something burning hit him. Was she trying to cook? This was highly intriguing. Because saying that Feyre had a culinary handicap would be putting it mildly. 

He found her sitting in the middle of the kitchen that appeared mostly unharmed. With her back to him, she was staring at the charred remains of something he assumed to be a cake. Having decided that there wasn’t any immediate harm, he took a moment to appreciate the scene. Her hair was coming out of the bun and flour was liberally streaked over it. It was just too endearing. He cautiously called out.

“Feyre darling.”

She was so intent on the cake that his voice startled her. Turning towards him, her eyes immediately filled with tears. Kneeling beside her, he took her into his arms, murmuring, “Oh love, who am I supposed to kill?” 

A wet chuckle. “I’ve already handled that part pretty well,” she said. “I have absolutely annihilated three cakes.” 

A short laugh escaped him. Biting the inside of his cheek, he tried to maintain a somber expression but Feyre caught on to it. 

“Don’t you dare! I’ll dump the rest of the flour on your head or I’ll hit you with my second attempt of a cake ! It’s hard enough to crack your head.” She said furiously. 

She had such an indignant expression which got completely ruined by the flour smudged on her nose. And he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Laughter bubbled up as he sat down while she mock punched him in the shoulder. It didn’t take her long to join him. 

Lying on the kitchen floor, it took them a long time to achieve any semblance of quite as every time they looked at each other, they ended up laughing more. Trying to recover their breath, they turned to face each other. 

“It was your gift for today, Rhys,” she whispered, sadness making its way back into her eyes. 

Pulling her closer, he wrapped her in his arms and lifted her chin to place a soft kiss on the tip of her nose. 

“Moyo Solnyshko. You have done so much already. It’s okay if we can’t have a cake. We could just make eggnog in the spirit of Christmas and that would make me happy because it would be with you. For this and every Christmas to come, you’d be my greatest gift and blessing.”

Tearing up, she breathed, “I love you, Rhys. I love you so much.”

Kissing her tenderly, he whispered against her lips, “I love you more.”

………..

“I hate eggnog,” she declared as they moved to the bedroom, deciding it was best to get off from the cold floor covered in suspicious cooking ingredients.

He smiled. “Fine. We’ll try and make something else.”

“No, Rhys. It has to be cake. It’s Christmas and no Christmas tradition is complete without cake! I want it to be cake.” she added in a small voice. 

Chuckling, he said, “Feyre darling, then let us make a cake together. What could go wrong? Besides, fourth time's the charm” 

Late into the night, Feyre looked at the product of their combined efforts. It looked promising. She had a sneaking suspicion about this but that could wait.   
Rhys was standing at the sink trying to tackle all the utensils they had used. She had not envisioned this when she set out to bake the cake. But reality turned out to be so much sweeter. Her husband was a charmer, she decided. He had turned her sorrow into happiness without her even realising it. Smiling softly, she stored this memory and thanked the stars for being blessed with such a loving man in her life. 

Still facing towards the sink, he asked, “ What’s on your mind darling ?” 

He had somehow caught her staring at him. Sneaky. 

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about thanking Azriel for all the instructions he handed out through the phone.”

“He is the most competent one at baking after all.” He replied, unrepentant.

Laughing, Feyre walked to him and patting him on his back, she said, “Next time my dear husband, let’s see how you would do without the help from the Master.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N : ‘Moyo Solnyshko’(- My Sunshine) is a Russian endearment I came across in another book. In my imagination, I keep seeing Rhysand saying sweet things to Feyre in different languages just because he liked the sound or the significance of it.


End file.
